Vivre
by The Anti-Romantic
Summary: To avoid a situation in which you may make a mistake may be the biggest mistake of all.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_When we reach the end of all the light we have and take that first step into darkness, we must believe one of two things: there will be something solid for us to stand on, or we will be taught to fly._

_Patrick Overton_

Pansy sat up and pulled her cloak tighter around her. The dungeons were the last place you wanted to be in the dead of the night in the wintertime. She scooted her way to the edge and let her bare feet fall onto the cold stone. Glancing at all the drawn beds, she could tell she was the only one awake at this hour.

Pushing her body off the bed she made her way to the window. Even though the dungeons were below ground the windows were bewitched and Pansy was able to glance out at the stars. Wisps of her warm breath rose up to tickle her red nose and she fought a shiver with the want to work its way down her spine. The sky looked the same it had years ago, but everything was so much more complicated now.

Pansy wasn't twelve, thirteen, fourteen anymore; she was seventeen years old. The cry of war had always been a rumble, somewhere in the distance, but now it was a storm, shouting in their face. It was a time where children still figuring out who they were had to determine their lives by choosing sides: fighting with their family or against them. It was a time when innocence fell and the guilty triumphed. It was a time Pansy wished she didn't have to see.

She sat on the small ledge and brought her knees up to her chin like she did when she was a little girl. Taking her index finger from its refuge in the warm cloak, she brought it to the glass. Using slight pressure she carved a word in the frost before diving back into the shelter of her huddled body. The word lingered there, taunting her, reminding her of when times were simpler.

Back then Pansy knew what she had to do; she knew what she was supposed to do. Pansy was brought up to be the perfect Slytherin—yet, alas, she couldn't find the heart to be one, so she had just hid in the shadows all these years. She was raised to be an obedient wife to the heir of the great Malfoy household himself. _What an arrogant son of a bitch_ Pansy thought, sliding off the windowsill. Even though it wasn't what she wanted it was what she was supposed to want. It was all laid out there for her, predetermined, black and white. It was what Pansy had accepted as her future. But Pansy wasn't a naive little girl anymore and it wasn't what she wanted. Despite the fact that it didn't matter whether she wanted it or not, Pansy couldn't even find the strength to pretend to want it anymore.

She was tired of acting like some stupid, obedient slut. She was tired of clinging to a boy who obviously hated her. Pansy was tired of bending to everyone's vision of who she was supposed to be.

Sighing at the weight on her shoulders she hadn't had when she'd woken up, Pansy crawled back into bed. Safe beneath the harbor of warmth she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting her worries float off into the cold night air. Little did she know that parents don't determine fate. Little did Pansy Parkinson know that destiny, or bad luck, or whatever you want to call it, had something else in mind.

They say two wrongs don't make a right. They say doing something wrong isn't going to lead to something right. They tell you there are definable lines between good and evil, black and white, dead and life. What they don't tell you is that sometimes right and wrong do coincide. Because Pansy was about to embark on a journey that would lead her to one of those wrong, yet its right, things.

And as the pale strips of the sunrise filtered onto the cold stone floor, they cast a shadow of a word a restless teenager had carved into their window. The word was meant to say 'evil,' but to someone on the other side of the glass, it simply said 'live.'

**A/N: **This story is being posted on Astronomy Tower too as Those Wrong, Yet it's Right, Things. I like this title better. And I hear this website uploads faster. This story is my pride and joy so far, please review and let me know what you think!

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

_Life is something that happens when people can't fall asleep at night._

_Unknown_

A sleep-deprived Pansy made her way to the great hall the next morning. Double potions first thing and she couldn't have looked more like hell. She had spent the whole night tossing and turning, waking abruptly to thoughts of war and her parents right when sleep was about to consume her. Her dirty blond hair was pulled in a high ponytail that fell halfway down her back and the poor girl had given up on make-up saving her face a year ago. She knew she wasn't pretty, by far, with her scrunched up features and her rich blue eyes, but she hadn't really thought of herself as ugly until she looked in the mirror this morning and it said 'man in the girl's dorms.' Intended as a joke, Pansy hadn't found it very funny.

So, around six she'd rolled out of bed and haunted the dungeons, contemplating Snape's target of the day and the lingering revelations of last night. Around seven as she decided it was safe to make her way to breakfast, Pansy stumbled—I wish I didn't mean that literally—upon a solution. Starting today Pansy wasn't going to be who everyone thought she was. And although Pansy had sworn this to herself several times since September, she felt today was different. She thought she might really mean it.

Entering the Great Hall Pansy could see it was an early Monday for everyone. It was nearly half full and she could see dirty plates from where some people had already evacuated, no doubt to finish up forgotten homework. Making her way to her usual seat by the Price of Slytherin himself—going on dramatically about some near-death experience no doubt—she changed her mind. Pansy stopped suddenly, noticed by much of the hall, some of who tried to stifle giggles, and changed tactics. Instead, she followed the beautifully dark oak table its length to the end and sat, by herself, a good five feet from everyone else.

To most, Pansy Parkinson had gone unnoticed. They knew her name and the face, but she had been a hood ornament of Malfoy's too long to actually be bothered by. However, this simple maneuver caused the hall to break out as though they were her best friend and were simply in disbelief by the action. Pansy shrugged off the echoes of her name and began to eat.

Harry Potter skidded to a halt outside the doors to Snape's classroom beside his best friend, Ronald Weasley. Breathing heavily, he tried to calm his hair and straighten his tie, watching Ron fumble helplessly with his shoelace. Hermione stood near, making a clucking sound with her tongue, telling him she thought them irresponsible. But honestly, how were they irresponsible because the bloody alarm didn't go off?

He looked around and saw Parvati and Lavender staring at him disdainfully before turning back to Dean and a few others and continuing their morning gossip. Draco Malfoy was in the corner with his usual cronies smirking at something genius he just said, no doubt. Harry hated Mondays.

Down the hallway there was a girl leaning against the wall by herself. Harry strained his eyes to try and make out the figure. After several moments Harry jumped back as it dawned on him who it was: Pansy Parkinson.

No need to make Harry even more of a hero and say he had always noticed her and sat in bed at night thinking she wasn't who she pretended to be. No, Harry was just as guilty as everyone else: he had never paid much mind to her. But seeing her alone in the hallway instead of clinging to Malfoy or yelling shrewd comments at Hermione, Harry studied her for a minute. She had the same blonde hair, though it was pulled up when usually it was down, and the same puglike face.

Being in war Harry didn't need to be told that not everything is as it appears to be. The Order had been carefully recruiting teenagers from Hogwarts with the help of the Golden Trio and several others. However, they had yet to try to persuade a Slytherin into joining their ranks. They were aware how dangerous it was, yet they also knew how necessary it was. Nobody knew more about the dark side then Slytherins, and no one had the cunning to outsmart them like a Slytherin did. For a moment Harry thought that maybe she could be it, his branch into a new territory. But as Pansy whipped his head towards him, the weight of his eyes finally finding her, and glared at him, simultaneously leading to Snape's door creaking open, Harry thought against it.

She had been ignoring stares all morning and hadn't noticed when the most unlikely person's eyes fell on her. Pansy could see Malfoy's group oblivious that she was gone, yet his face this morning might prove he noticed otherwise. Pansy had been distancing herself for some time, but today's bold move was a smack in the face. Not that he needed another one.

Draco Malfoy was destined for great things and Pansy knew this. He would most likely, once branded, replace his father, and when the dark lord perished, whether at the hand of The-Boy-Who-Lived or by old age, would proceed to rein the kingdom. Everyone in Slytherin knew this. Every girl envied her whose path was set to join his. So, perhaps, the shock of the events so far this morning was greater to her.

Feeling an unshakable stare on her Pansy whipped her head in the direction of its source. On instinct she glared at Harry Potter, but as he turned to go into Snape's room, a wave of disbelief overcame her. Numbly, she found her way into the potion's classroom in time to hear that they would be partnered up for the remainder of the year—no doubt thanks to Snape's discovery of Granger helping Longbottom too much—into _opposite_ house pairs.

Unfortunately, thoughts swarmed in her head and drowned out whatever else he had to say. However, the team Parkinson and Potter did find its way to her ears, and moments later, to her occupied mind.

**A/N: **Wooo weee. Now we're getting started. I love quotes, so there will be one every chapter. But keep in mind, sometimes quotes are more then just words. ;)

Please Review

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

_I'd rather be hated for who I am, then loved for who I'm not._

_Rudy Ray Moore_

Pansy threw the roots into the cauldron perhaps a bit more harshly then she should of. "Why don't you just sit back and look pretty or something, Potter. I can handle this by myself."

"I highly doubt you do anything by yourself," Harry responded as he cut more roots at a dangerous pace.

"You make an awful lot of presumptions for someone so worshiped." Pansy took a step back from their station and swiped her cloak sleeve across her slightly damp forehead. "Neither of us like working together, obviously, but let's at least try to make it less painful and refrain from speaking, agreed?"

"I've heard you talk more in the past minute then in the past six years, Parkinson. I'm very interested to hear what you have to say." Harry glanced back at the reddened girl and bit back a smile.

"Shut it, Potter." A moment of silence followed and Pansy assumed it safe to return to work. She stepped up, took another look at the directions of the board, and started adding pinches of rookworm at timely intervals.

"Why do you do it?" Harry asked suddenly. Startled, Pansy jumped, then regaining her pride, finished the rookworm up before turning fully to look at Potter.

"What?" she asked politely.

"You're actually doing a decent job at this potion. Better then Hermione probably. Definitely better then me. So why have you always pretended as though you couldn't?"

Pansy thought a moment. She'd always been partnered with Draco. Hands down he was excellent at potions. She had contributed from time to time when he didn't understand something, but he took all the credit. Pansy had sat back for years, never realizing she might actually be good at potions herself, never wandering from the stereotype people had about her. Now, however, working next to Potter, she had slipped up when he had lacked and their potion, indeed, looked to be well on the right track.

"Like I said earlier, Potter. You make a lot of hasty generalizations. It's just a bought of good luck. I've done this potion before." Pansy was taken aback by how easily the lie came out. Sure, she'd always been good at lying, but for once she felt the need to protect the truth more then ever, and was surprised at how truthful she sounded. "To tell you the truth," Pansy spat out another lie, "we're both going to have a helluva year with Snape yelling at us all the time."

Harry watched as she started stirring the potion, her eyes not meeting his. She didn't sound as though she was lying, but yet Harry knew she was. "Slytherins are all the same," Harry replied trying to find some truth in her. He had downcast his eyes by the time her angered eyes snapped up.

"You and your stupid stereotypes! Don't think for one minute you know anything about my life or about a Slytherin. You lock yourself up in your own little world. Maybe for once you should take a look at the world through someone else's eyes, huh? Through a different perspective? You think we're so stupid, but at least we see what's really there. You call us afraid, yet you are the one running." Pansy stopped suddenly, though whether it was from Snape yelling at her and Potter or from the shock of what she'd just said would remain unknown.

"Potter, Parkinson, is there a problem?" Snape's eyes floated dangerously between the pair, his attitude already soured by Neville and Millicent's horrible attempt at the potion.

"None, Sir," Harry nearly spat, being careful to keep a politeness in his tone.

"Good." Snape whipped back around to a terrified Neville.

"Don't assume we are all the same," Pansy said quietly, pouring their potion into the two vials.

"Why not?" Harry asked, but not in a condescending tone, an openly curious one. He hoped she would answer sincerely and he would see a flicker of what she actually wanted to say instead of what she'd been trained to like he had a moment ago. _You're kidding yourself with this one, Harry. She's Malfoy's girl, not your potential saved soul._

"Say whatever you like, Potter," she said, quickly reverting back to her fifteen-year-old self, "but we'll see who is the last one laughing."

"It'll be me then obviously," Harry said a bit too loud, his words laced with the guilt of letting the fragile moment disappear. "Slytherins don't laugh."

Pansy didn't even have a chance to round on him before Snape launched the word 'detention' in their direction with a clear intent of it's meaning. Harry just rolled his eyes and took their vials to the front of the room, detentions a regular weekly activity for him. Pansy, however, was livid. Harry Potter had just landed her her first detention ever.

**A/N: **Unfortunately, that's all I can give you today. Please review so I'll update faster ;). Next Chapter is the detention, and you would hate to be waiting forever for that.

Review!

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

_All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander are lost._

_J.R.R. Tolkien_

Pansy ran her tongue over her chapped lip and blew a piece of her hair that had come loose out of her face. Hate would be too simple of a word to use for the task she now had to do. Scrubbing the entire dungeons with nothing but soap, water, and a sponge was not the Monday evening Pansy had planned. Her fingers were raw and bursting open from all the water and soap and her knees shook so badly she feared at any minute she's collapse onto the soapy floor from her crouched position. Though she allowed a smile when she noticed the Wonder Boy wasn't fairing much better.

Harry struggled to keep his glasses up on his nose as he scrubbed fearlessly at a burn mark on the floor, probably the work of some rebel Slytherin. They'd been working in silence for nearly and hour and a half, she too furious and him too smug.

"Thanks for my first detention, Potter," she spat, finally breaking the silence. She let her sponge fall into her bucket carelessly and sat down on her knees.

"I'm actually surprised you haven't landed yourself one before now," he said, following her lead and taking a break as well.

"I never did anything to deserve one, not even today. I've always been quiet and unnoticed…until I stumbled upon you."

"Sorry, it appears I tend to drag people into the spotlight. You'll get over it eventually."

"I'm not your girlfriend, Granger, Potter. I'm a prefect, one more deserving then her."

Harry ignored Pansy labeling Hermione as his girlfriend. "More deserving? Nobody deserves it more then Hermione."

"She's always bending the rules for you and your stupid Weasel friend. Always got her nose stuck in a book instead of being aware of what's going on around her. Thinks the answer to saving the world lies in one of her precious books, eh?"

"For someone who lectures an awful lot about stereotypes you're becoming dangerously close to being a hypocrite." Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and cleared away the scorch mark, pointedly ignoring Pansy's disapproving glance.

"You gain knowledge from experience, Potter, not books. Reciting _Hogwarts, A History_ from cover to cover won't get you anywhere in this world."

Harry shook his head. _What are the chances? In the middle of a bloody war I discover people really aren't who I expected them to be. Great._

"I think I've become delirious from all this work, Parkinson. I could've sworn you just said something intelligent."

"You'll never learn, will you?" Pansy willed herself to reach into the soapy bucket and pull out her sponge, starting on the scorches in the corner, willing herself to forget he was there.

"I did learn one thing today," Harry said suddenly. Pansy kept scrubbing. "Not everybody is as they appear to be. I only wish I knew what their reasons were for hiding."

"Look for the answer in yourself, then. Even I can tell you don't always want to act as you do." Pansy scrubbed harder.

"You never should've landed yourself a detention with me. Because you'll never live it down."

"Live what down, Potter?" she asked, furious that he blamed her for this detention. Pansy kept scrubbing.

"That even Pansy Parkinson, girl who has it all, might not have it all."

"How did you come to that festive conclusion?" _Damn, this mark really won't come up._

"It's really not that hard. You stopped hanging all over Malfoy and you admitted to being unhappy."

"I did not!" Pansy kept scrubbing, fighting the urge to find his probably laughing eyes.

"You missed a spot," Harry said from over her shoulder. Pansy glanced up and glared at him before he walked out the door, finished with his half of the work.

"Oh bugger," she said frustrated, launching the sponge into the bucket and ridding the floor of the mark with a flick of her wand.

**A/N: **Not much to say, except to review! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews so far, they make my day!

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

_I have never met a man so ignorant that I couldn't learn something from him._

_Galileo Galilei (better known as just Galileo)_

"Harry, I haven't seen you this happy in…well, a while," Hermione said, choosing her words carefully. Bringing up the death of his godfather was not something you did around the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I found her," Harry said matter-of-factly, not letting his quill halt its path. Ron sat across from him, shaking his head that Harry was actually doing his homework a day ahead of time, and moved the chess piece he'd been pondering over finally.

"Your turn, mate."

"Found who, Harry?" Hermione brought her eyes up from her book to look at Harry, waiting for him to return her glance. Sure enough, a moment later, the quill halted and he looked up. He quickly moved a chess piece, ignoring the look of triumph on Ron's face, and turned back to her.

"The Slytherin we're going to recruit."

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said, checkmating him and ignoring Hermione's 'Ronald, language!' at the same time. "We've been on the lookout all year and I haven't seen a one of them that would turn against their families, mate."

"Ron's right, Harry. I haven't seen any Slytherins straying from their obvious path. Not any that would be of use to us anyway. We don't just need anybody, Harry, we need someone who can actually help us."

"Yeah. Smart," Ron agreed. "And if it's a girl you're talking about, good looking wouldn't be a bad quality either."

"Ron!"

"She's perfect. Trust me. We just have to get her to realize it." Harry ignored his friends banter, by now he was more then used to it.

"Who is it, Harry?"

"I don't want to tell just yet. I'm heading up to bed."

"But, Harry…."

"Don't worry, 'Mione, I know what I'm doing. I just need to handle this alone for a while."

"Are you sure she'd do it, mate?" Ron asked cleaning up the chessboard.

"No."

> > > > > > > > > > > > >

Pansy was sitting in the back of the library writing her two-foot assignment for History of Magic when she felt his firm grip on her shoulder.

"Hello, love," he coed balancing himself on the arm of her chair.

"Draco," she nodded in greeting.

"It's very considerate staying clear of me when you're sick so as not to give me anything. After all, the Dark Lord would hate for me to be sick on Friday, the day of my ceremony."

"Yes, Malfoy, that's exactly what I was doing." Pansy let the words drip with a sarcasm she hoped he wouldn't notice and coughed faintly two times.

His hand suddenly fastened like a viper on her upper arm and he brought his face menacingly within a mere inch of hers.

"I know that's what it was," he said. "Because you wouldn't dare," he tightened his hold, "dare disobey or ignore me."

He released his hold and stood smoothly. Pansy held back the urge to rub her arm and stared defiantly up at him. She hated that he was standing over her where he thought he belonged.

"I don't like this new attitude of yours. Get rid of it. That's an order," he spat. He grabbed her hand and bent at the waist to place his cold lips upon it. As soon as he released her hand she wiped the back of it on the arm of the chair, though she knew it was childish. He merely smirked and strode out of the library.

"Bastard." She slammed her books shut and rolled up the scroll. She wouldn't be able to concentrate tonight.

As she made her way back down to the dungeons Pansy decided to take a detour out to the lake. Sitting by the edge of the water, she shivered, sure she would freeze to death if she stayed out here too much longer. Not that she really cared.

Pansy could see the castle lights reflected in the black of the water, the moon dead center of the lake. She glanced up towards the Gryffindor tower and saw a boy standing in the window, staring out at the night. _Potter_.

The fool actually thought he understood her. After one day of being forced to put up with her presence after so long of ignoring it, he just assumed he knew every intimate thing about her. He didn't know anything. But she knew plenty about him.

She reached out and ran her fingertips along the edge of the water. She wouldn't imagine she'd miss her parents all that much if they died; fell behind some curtain and never emerged. But she'd heard enough to know Potter was plagued by his godfather's death. For a second she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

She stood swiftly and gathered her bag. _I hate Mondays_.

**A/N:** Thanks again for the wonderful reviews. Keep 'em coming. Reccommend me to your friends (yes, I'm aware I can't spell)!

Next Chapter: Confucius and a little lesson in French...

P.S. I have issued a challenge here and on AT. If anyone can tell me what vivre means (one or two words, depending on how you look at it) then I will give you a quote from a future chapter, just for fun! No cheating!

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

_It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop._

_Confucius_

Unfortunately, Dark Arts ended Pansy in exactly the same predicament she'd been placed in yesterday. It seemed as though the teachers had suddenly gone on this unite the houses high and in every class they were getting paired with the opposite house. And, again unfortunately, it usually went in alphabetical order. Parkinson had ended up with Potter again.

Together they had to write a five-foot scroll on (their selected topic) the pros and cons of the Vampire Restrictions. They worked diligently for twenty minutes in awkward, yet welcomed, silence, shoving the book back and forth and waiting patiently for the other to finish scrawling something on the scroll and then sighing in frustration because they had just written down what the other was going to. Eventually they both just stopped. Harry had to convince her…somehow.

"Parkinson, about last night, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, I had no right."

She looked up at him, sizing him up to tell whether he was sincere, and then deciding his intent was true, nodded her forgiveness.

"You figure everything we right down has to come from our books?" she asked just when he had given up hope of conversation.

"I don't suppose so…why?"

"I just know a couple more things about the Vampire Restrictions that might help us get to five-feet. I have a few books in my room. Mind if I take this tonight?"

"By all means." Harry was running a million scenarios through his mind. He had to convince her to fight for them. Hermione had said they needed someone smart, and her and Ron might disagree at first, but Harry knew Pansy wasn't as dumb as she pretended to be. They needed her.

True to his slyness, Draco Malfoy was at Pansy's side before either of them noticed. Pansy spun around, trying to hide all emotion she felt towards him—all bad—in her eyes.

"De quoi est-ce que tu as besoin?" she said, hoping that if he chose to make a scene at least others wouldn't be able to understand it. The question however was exactly what he wanted: _What do you need?_

"J'ai besoin de toi, amour," he said easily. _I need you, love._

_Not now! _Pansy thought. "Pourquoi?" _Why?_

"Parce-que tu es la mienne." _Because you are mine._ A smirk graced his face and Pansy reached up and slapped it, the reality of what she had just done slapping her very soon afterwards. But there was no turning back now. Pansy mustered up all the strength she had.

"I will never be yours. Never." Though Draco was good at hiding emotion, one like Pansy who had known him forever could tell his façade was slipping. He tilted his chin up and started walking away. He stopped almost to his desk and threw a casual phrase across the room that scared her so much if she had not been leaning on the table she would have found her way to the stone ground. _Oui, vous._

Harry could see a flash of fear in her eyes before she quickly discarded it and turned her face back to the book, ignoring the stares and whispers that quickly enveloped the room. "I didn't know you spoke French."

"One of the many _many_ things you don't know about me, Potter." She looked up at him. "And one of the few you will find out." She turned back down to the reading, searching again for anything they had missed. She wasn't sure if she had enough information back in her dorm for the whole foot they had left yet.

Harry couldn't help his curiosity. "What did he say?"

Pansy knew he wanted the whole conversation, but she was only willing to give him the three words that scared her the most. "Oui, vous. Yes, you will."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Pansy sat alone that night during dinner in the library unknown to the librarian's keen senses, the weight of the day cutting through her thoughts. She took a deep breath and tried to prioritize herself again. She picked up the quill pen and set to work on her potions homework.

_Oui, vous._

She threw the quill down in frustration. The words wouldn't leave her alone.

_Oui, vous._

The last thing you ever wanted to do was disagree with a Malfoy, because most likely it would be the last thing you would ever do. She never thought words could scare her so much. Three little words: _Yes, you will._

She once again packed up her bags, knowing tomorrow she would have three nights worth of homework to do. Pansy had gone too far to go back now. She wasn't ready to bow down to her predetermined future just yet. Not without a fight.

Pansy tossed her bag over her shoulder, the weight of it almost taking her to the ground. Who was she kidding? Pansy had no say in her life, except maybe what she had for breakfast, and she was sure once she left Hogwarts and settled into the Malfoy Estate she wouldn't even have any say in that.

Potter had been right: about Slytherins, about her, about everything—as much as she hated to admit it. They were all destined for the Dark Side just like he assumed.

Pansy shook her head and walked out of the library. It was almost sunset and she was not going to think about Potter. Not again.

**A/N:** I have gotten a question from a french geek like myself on the 'Oui, vous.' To me that says Yes, you, but according to all the research I did, and I did look into it, it also means yes, you will. If anyone knows what 'yes, you will' really is in french (if it's not 'oui, vous') then don't hesitate to let me know. Even if I can't correct it in the story, I'm a french geek and I would love to know it!

Please review! Make sure you take a guess. What does 'vivre' mean?

Love,

The Anti-Romantic


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